Tehrani raised an eyebrow. “Even after something like that?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Whatley came to the rescue. “Nothing wrong with questioning what’s up there,” he said gruffly. “All I care about is that you keep clipping Leaguers at the same pace you’ve been doing up until now.”
“Amen,” Wright interjected.
“I think it’s time I take my leave from you all,” Tehrani said after a few moments of silence. “Lieutenant Spencer, thank you for joining me tonight. I am genuinely impressed with your abilities.” She stood. “Good evening, everyone. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a repair-and-supply day before we move on for the rest of the convoy run.”
Major Nishimura patted Justin’s shoulder. “I had my quartermaster send a couple of cases of the best beer we had down to the Red Tails’ ready room. Dole it out as you see fit.” He leaned in and whispered, “And keep killing those commie sons of bitches for us. I can’t wait till I get my turn, but I’ll live vicariously through you until that happens.”
Justin managed a grin. “Thank you, sir… ma’am. Everyone.” With little else to say, he stood and started walking out of the mess.
A table set for one on the side of the room captured his attention. He quickly realized it was the prisoner of war-missing in action remembrance display. Every mess had one, and so did every veterans’ organization building. Pausing at it, Justin considered the symbolism of every item, from a single place setting that represented the frailty of one prisoner to the slice of lemon, which served as a reminder of the bitter fate of those missing and never returned home. This particular display had a Bible, Torah, and Quran laid on the table’s side, which made sense, considering their status as the three largest religions in the Terran Coalition.
“Are you okay?” Feldstein asked quietly.
Justin nearly jumped out of his skin and whirled around. “Uh, yeah.”
“Jumpy much?”
He felt as if a lump were caught in his throat. “Honestly, yeah. I’m still halfway freaked out by what happened.” Justin gestured to the table. “And how close I came to being another person remembered by a small memorial. I keep vacillating between this kind of giddy sense of victory…” He turned toward her. “And seeing Felder’s Sabre explode. He was one of mine. I couldn’t help him, but I’m a hero?”
Feldstein put a hand on top of his and squeezed it. “I get it, Justin. Even Mateus, for all her talk, will quietly admit to nightmares. Why do you think I’m at the shul so much?”
Justin shrugged. “You got religion?” He managed a small grin.
“I suppose, in some sense. For me, though, it’s more that I need to have some comfort that what I’m doing is right, and if I die, my soul won’t be cast out. The thought terrifies me.”
“Dvora, you know I’m not much on God.”
“Then turn to your friends. Stop hiding out in your cabin after battles and join us. Mateus has a poker game going practically every night.”
He snorted. “And get cleaned out?”
Feldstein rolled her eyes. “We don’t play for real money. Well, except after everyone’s had too much to drink, but you get the point. You’re a part of something bigger than yourself. Act like it.”
Her words stung. Anger started to build, but Justin had to admit she was right. And when someone else is right, admit it. Or I’ll be as bad as Whatley can be at times. He nodded. “Okay. I’ll start coming but not tonight.” Justin grinned. “I feel like the doc gave me a complete workup and ran me through a shrink to boot after that.”
“Yeah, no kidding. You’ll be pinning on captain’s stripes before too long, I bet.”
Justin smirked and raised his eyebrows. “No way. I’m a year out from O-3, at best.”
“Trust me.” Feldstein winked. “Have a good night. Remember what I said.”
“I will.” Justin watched her go, and after a final glance at the POW-MIA table, he turned and walked out.
After leaving the senior officers’ mess, Justin didn’t feel like returning to his cabin. The walls of it were oppressive, closing in on him after weeks in space. Instead, he walked the passageways of the ship. The tale of his exploits had spread like wildfire through the carrier. Everyone seemed to recognize him, from the officers to the lowest-grade enlisted private on the vessel. It made a stroll he hoped would clear his mind turn into a slog that did nothing but. Feldstein’s words were front and center, forcing him to account for his behavior and deal with the pain of war.
Walking aft of the hangar decks, Justin came to the same section as the religious and worship spaces. A ship the size of the Greengold, as small as it was for a carrier, still had a relatively large crew for a space-going military vessel. Accordingly, the ship had different chapels for the Terran Coalition’s various major religions along with a multipurpose space for belief systems with fewer followers. The shul was located here, its blue Star of David prominently displayed. A few meters down the passageway sat the Christian church, used by all denominations of the faith. For a moment, he paused outside of its doors.
It’s nothing short of a miracle that I’m still alive. Justin stared at the double hatch. No. It was just luck. How did my statistics professor put it in college? Low-probability events do occur. Justin set his jaw. What happened today was simply proof of random chance. I got lucky.
He turned on his heel and walked back to the gravlift that would take him to the right deck for his cabin.
Ten minutes later, Justin stepped into the lift. “Deck eight,” he announced.
Before the pod could move, another soldier ducked through the door. A young man, he looked to be a teenager still. The youngster came to attention. “Sir!”
Justin peered at him.
